


22 Seconds

by Concolor



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Concolor/pseuds/Concolor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unadulterated fluff of the fluffiest magnitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	22 Seconds

. . . 

. . . 

. . . 

  


1 . . . 

I caught that subtle glint in her eye that she gets whenever she’s about to do something that’ll shoot my Embarrassment Index to escape velocity. 

I tell ya, it’s those eyes, those incredible, feline eyes. 

Well … okay, the eyes and her grin and that perfect skin and her long, gorgeous neck and the unbelievably sexy way she sways when she walks and … and I’m talking myself into an embarrassing situation without any help from her, thankyewvurramuch. Chill, Wally. 

But that little twinkle … that I-know-something-you-don’t-know look that alerts everyone around her (well, everyone who’s paying attention) that she’s about to **Do Something** … that little twinkle captured my attention … 

  


. . . 

. . . 2 . . . 

He’d been talking about it for the last hour at least. Not steady, just, you know … off and on. But bringing it up every few minutes. We weren’t a _**real**_ couple, he implied, not really, even though I’d already _**told**_ him he didn’t get on my nerves nearly as bad as he used to. Even though I hadn’t hexed him in, like, three whole days! Not even when he told me yesterday that he “ _liked_ ” liked me. I mean, hell, if I put up with _**that**_ , he oughta get a clue, right? 

But he’s a boy and boys are dense. Dense like rocks. Dense like lead or … or … or some other really dense thing. Raven told me a couple weeks ago that hints don’t work on guys – Wally in particular, ‘cause, you know, for a boy, he’s dense – and that I shouldn’t just assume he _**knows**_ something because it’s freakin’ _**obvious**_ , and that if I _**do**_ decide to drop a hint, I should drop it on him with a sledgehammer. Hell, _**she**_ can see it, and she’s, like, the Ice Queen! And only half human! And not even around us that much! 

So I figured, what the hey. I can drop a sledgehammer with the best of ‘em. Breaking things is what you might call my specialty, after all. I sort of sidled over his way … 

  


. . . 

. . . 3 . . . 

She moved closer. I pick up on these things, and I could tell. She had definitely moved closer. I got a tiny surge of adrenaline, not a big dump like when you get a real startle, but just a sort of appetizer, a “let’s get ready just in case you need to split” bit of adrenaline. So my heart rate stepped up some. Not much. But I wanted to be able to move out of the way if she decided to hex me. Not that it takes her much of an _**excuse**_ most of the time. She’ll fire off a hex if I toss her a _**pun**_ she doesn’t like, for God’s sake! 

I didn’t move away. Not yet. But I was not _**about**_ to take my eyes off her … 

  


. . . 

. . . 4 . . . 

I could pretty much tell that he didn’t know what I was up to. I think if he did, he wouldn’t have been such a fraidy-cat. Maybe. It’s hard to tell with him. 

Oh, I know all the stories. Did some research. I like to know things. 

Well, okay, maybe it’s stretching the point a bit to call it research. I talked to some of his classmates. 

… Okay … _**Okay!**_ I talked to **one** classmate. For, like, four minutes. But she was totally helpful. Wally West is a jock, and a flirt, and according to her he would hit on anything that looked vaguely female. But she couldn’t recall ever seeing him at any kind of school function actually _**with**_ a girl. Sorta confirmed my suspicions about him being 90% talk and 10% fumble. He likes the image, but he’s never tried to have a _**relationship**_ because he’s already married to his _**job**_. 

I can fix that. 

I started to reach for his hand … 

  


. . . 

. . . 5 . . . 

I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t realize what she was doing until our fingers touched. 

Hey, it’s not like I haven’t held her hand before. For that matter, I’ve _**carried**_ her all over the place. I know what she feels like. 

That is, I _**thought**_ I knew what she felt like. But hanging onto someone so she doesn’t fall off while traveling at several hundred klicks is not – I repeat, **NOT** – the same. It’s not the same at all. And it made me _**so glad**_ that we were in civvies, and I wasn’t wearing my gloves. 

Her fingers slid up and around and between mine, and the slight friction, the skin-on-skin contact, left little trails of electric fire that skittered up my arm. I almost shivered … 

  


. . . 

. . . 6 . . . 

His skin did a microscopic mamba when I took his hand, and that just about confirmed my suspicions. He didn’t know what I was doing, didn’t (couldn’t?) understand what I had in mind. And that was okay. I like it when he gives me a pure response, no rehearsing, no practice, no flippant remarks, and no bullcrap. 

I curled our fingers together – with him following my motions like it was choreographed – and held his gaze … 

  


. . . 

. . . 7 . . . 

I could practically feel my pupils dilating. 

She had no idea of the effect she was having on me. I could tell. She was about to enact some form of mischief on my person, but I didn’t have the left-over attention to concentrate on it because all I could think of, all I could feel, was her skin. I seldom get the chance to touch her skin with mine. More’s the pity. 

So vibrant. Warm and alive, glowing like a live coal in my hand. But I couldn’t look down. I wanted to … but I couldn’t. 

Her eyes. 

Did I mention her eyes? Did I mention that they are the candle to my moth? I couldn’t have torn my gaze away if an explosion had gone off behind me. 

I felt her pull upward, just a little tug, to raise my hand … 

  


. . . 

. . . 8 . . . 

He looked like a possum in a pothole with a truck bearing down on him: eyes wide, mouth hanging a little bit open, completely paralyzed. I don’t think he’d blinked since I first grinned at him. But he didn’t fight me, didn’t resist at all when I lifted his hand. 

I thought about how it felt. It wasn’t often that I got to touch his bare skin. It was … really nice. He’s got these calluses and rough places, but then other parts are smooth and soft. A study in contradictions. 

Kind of like us. 

You know, for someone who claims to “like” like me, he can be awfully standoffish. I need to remedy that condition. 

I raised his hand until it was about chin-height … 

  


. . . 

. . . 9 . . . 

My hand – our hands – came into my peripheral vision, and when she got it up to about the level of her mouth … 

I could feel her thumb and forefinger tracing little lines around on my palm and that area on the back just above my thumb, and that feeling absorbed my entire focus – the tactile part, that is – and my arm just about went limp. 

Then she tilted her head down a little and her lips … 

  


. . . 

. . . 10 . . . 

I got his hand into position and then I kissed it. 

Just a little, lightly, on top of one knuckle. I wanted to gauge his reaction. 

I was just as interested in my reaction, too. I mean, come on, it’s not like I ever really had an opportunity before to get all kissy-kissy with someone. In the H.I.V.E.? Seriously? Have you _**seen**_ those guys? Yeah, a couple of ‘em made the moves on me, but after the others saw ‘em limping around with scorch marks in sensitive places, they cut that crap out. 

Although … you know … if _**Stone**_ had … 

… Eh. Not that it matters. He blew his chance with me, and I guess it’s just as well. Water down the river, and he’s got Sarah now, and they’re a super match. I’m happy for him. 

Back to Wally … 

  


. . . 

. . . 11 . . . 

Did she … ? … She … she did! She kissed my hand! 

It felt fantastic. Her lips were almost whisper-soft against my skin, and my universe drew down into this one act – this, the first real evidence that she might actually return some of what I felt for her – and that vision of her sweet, sweet mouth against the top of my finger was everything I knew at that instant. 

Simultaneously, it felt like I was losing my balance, which is something I never do because my reflexes are so fast it just isn’t possible except that this time it _**was**_ , because I think my semicircular canals were going on strike … 

  


. . . 

. . . 12 . . . 

He started listing to port. The shock on his face was definitely worth it. 

I had a hold of his right hand, and braced myself in case he really did get too wobbly. I think he was afraid I was gonna hex ‘im, and this is kind of the opposite. Threw him for a loop. 

I pulled my lips away from his hand and caught his eyes again … 

  


. . . 

. . . 13 . . . 

My vision was fuzzy. Why was my vision fuzzy? 

Oh, yeah, I remember. Because Jinx psyched me out worse than I’ve ever been psyched out before. 

She kissed my knuckle. 

My _knuckle?_ What the hell? 

We were staring into each other’s eyes again. I shifted my left foot to help maintain my balance and gave my head a shake … 

  


. . . 

. . . 14 . . . 

He’s so cute when I catch him off-guard. 

I gave him my best “gotcha” grin and let our hands drop. 

But he didn’t let go. 

My grin faltered a little … 

  


. . . 

. . . 15 . . . 

No. 

No, we are _**not**_ going to leave it at _**that**_. 

My first impression was that she’d done that to get my goat. She loves to shock me. But come on! I _**told**_ her I liked her. I already told her! And she may be devious, and random, and short-tempered … but she’s not _**mean**_. So this had to mean _**something!**_

Fine, then. I’ll _**show**_ her what it means. She climbed up on the mechanical bull and dropped her dollar in the slot. She’s gonna _**get**_ her eight seconds … 

  


. . . 

. . . 16 . . . 

I wasn’t sure exactly when things turned around on me. But I can guarantee you that they had. 

His right hand gripped my left one firmly and he pulled me closer. I was … okay, I wasn’t expecting that. Yes, I was surprised, very much so. I thought he would yelp, or pretend to swoon, or dash off and come back with another rose … or maybe just stand there and shake. I didn’t expect this! 

He raised his left arm … 

  


. . . 

. . . 17 . . . 

I was already holding her left hand in my right, and when I pulled her closer, it got her off balance (very briefly … she’s good) and before she could come up with any kind of dodge, I slipped my left hand up behind her neck, very gently, and gave the nape a little squeeze. 

Part of me was still in that surprised-and-slightly-ticked-off-and-wanting-to-get-back-at-her mode, but the rest of me was busy panicking just a little over what I was about to do. My heart felt like it was getting too big for my chest. Tight, you know? Because I was pretty sure she’d hex me into the next county when I was finished. 

I leaned toward her … 

  


. . . 

. . . 18 . . . 

It was like electricity, where he was holding the back of my neck. But it was a good kind, warm instead of painful, exciting instead of terrifying. 

… Okay, maybe it was a _**little**_ terrifying. Was he really gonna do what I _**thought**_ he was gonna do? 

He squeezed, just a touch, just enough … well, more like support than anything else. It was almost … possessive. 

There was, maybe, at most two centimeters between us. My eyes were welded to his, but it looked like he might be in the process of closing them. It’s funny how things become so clear when adrenaline floods your system. I’d felt something like that during some of our heists, back when I was with the H.I.V.E. That level of focus is an exhilarating feeling – at least it can be – and I was getting tickles of the same thing here. I noticed every single one of his freckles. I could probably have counted them. And the little scrape on his nose where that piece of shrapnel flew past his head this morning while we were fighting that gang, and the length of his hair (he could stand a cut), and how deeply, deeply serious his gaze was …

  


. . . 

. . . 19 . . . 

She was making no move to hex me. (Win!) I closed the distance – and my eyes – and pressed our lips together. 

This was as totally novel an experience as any I’ve ever had, and that’s saying something! The concepts of ‘soft’ and ‘sweet’ developed new depth, their definitions expanding and unfolding by the millisecond. Unconsciously I moved into accelerated mode, just so I could savor this sensation more fully, for however long it lasted. 

She tasted just as good as she looked. Better, maybe, if that’s possible. I was trying to take it all in, but the sensations were just so overwhelming … 

  


. . . 

. . . 20 . . . 

Wow. 

I’ve heard the ‘girl talk’ about this. 

I’ve read the odd romance story. 

I’ve seen romantic scenes in movies. 

But nothing had prepared me. It was … 

Yeah. Wow. 

I guess I’m s’posed to hex him for this. He’s probably expecting it. 

Screw that. 

I want more … 

  


. . . 

. . . 21 . . . 

She’s kissing me back! 

Epic win! 

Go away. I’m busy. 

  


. . . 

. . . 22 . . . 

Me, too. 

… 

… Wow. 

. . . 

. . . 

. . .


End file.
